Year 765 Hippocampus Rush

That is proven by the way Gash didn’t press for more information. Gash moved away from Connor’s side to delegate the crew, giving him ample reasons to approach Rhea.

She is still with his boatswain and swashbuckler. Those three were having a conversation, Rhea now engaged in it without looking for a way to escape. They trusted her. Jerold was still whining about something; Cid was petting the whining swashbuckler on the shoulder. Rhea looked unsure of the positive attention, living in hiding could do that to someone.

Connor inserted himself in this trio. Immediately the whining tapered down from Jerold and Cid’s grin grew to his ears.

“Good to see yer, Capt’.”

“Hm.” Connor nodded to Cid, then memories of Jerold’s obnoxiousness filled his mind. It was time to lay out his punishment for the disgruntled father of six, “Make yourself useful and dust off the cannons...”

“Aye capt. Maybe the lass might rather have our company than some scary capt!” Jerold’s sarcastic comment earned him a fiercer snarl from Connor. The swashbuckler dragged the half giant by the off, “Ya heard ’em.”

“Aye. Yer think Iggy would let me pick up sum cannons for exercisin’?”

“Doubt it big guy...”

Connor shook his head, slightly surprised that he had survived their antics for this long. This is exactly why he had to be certain that the next steps wouldn’t just end with him with a bigger migraine.

“Mister...was there anything else you needed from me?”

Rhea moved into his line of sight; her radiance hard to ignore even if he tried. The concerning points of her features are the bruising around her bottom lip, possibly from fighting with one of the goons, the straw-infused curls, the bloodied clothes, and the thinness of her frame. These triggered something in him. That something in him shook in her presence, almost breaking every one of his mental rules for himself.

This captain lived and breathed in the lifestyle of his master before him. A master alchemist, independent from people in general, chose to train Connor on one faithful day. His master’s name was Roland, those trained under him refer to him as master while everyone else will call him captain.

Master Roland lived a rather secular life, never taking on a partner and only ever having a cupped hand worth of named individuals that he deemed trustworthy. Connor is no different and he had every intention of staying that way, content to have Gash or Ruffin being the closest people in his life.

Yet he wavers at the sight of her, she had this face shape and eyebrow set like someone he recalls. Someone he regrets remembering; the memory of such a person hurts just as deeply as the death of his master. The thought of this individual brought on not just memories he wished to squash but the trauma.

It had made him weak, even when he should be the one to stay composed as he waved an opportunity in her face just out of reach. No such thing happened. The captain couldn’t bring himself to play difficult for much longer.

“Nothing. You have done more than enough.” Connor lightened his tone of voice, just so she could pick up the hints that he was grateful for her assistance. Even though there were times of frustration. Scratch that, the whole experience was frustrating.

“Oh. Good. Well-” She angled her body to leave, smiling with that big grin that stretched that small bruise on her bottom lip. “I want to check the orphanage before I...leave this town.”

There was the thick sadness that she failed to hide beneath that forced grin. It slipped into her voice like deep globs of ink, staining each syllable.

Damn it... “Allow me to accompany you. After all, you can’t just walk around freely with no escorts.” Connor wanted nothing more than to keelhaul himself to get involved. Even worse is that the excuse he found in his skull barely holds much weight for someone that can climb as if it is breathing. There will be no Chimera knights to bother her either. This is the perfect condition for her to walk around freely.

The upturn of her nose to the raised brow suggested she was thinking the same thing. Thank the gods she wasn’t petty enough to point it out. An indicator that something must be bothering her, “Mister. I do not want to keep you away from your people much longer.”

“Hm.” Connor held her gaze, letting his expression show that he didn’t have the space to change his mind.

Defeated, she sighs. “Fine. One last time.”

Connor opened his mouth to try to correct her, but instead he would save it for later. When there was time for it. There would be time, even though the woman had her mind set to leave them all. There was some excitement from his crew seeing him depart with a strange Krax woman. All of them saying either ′dun’t keep us waitin′ or ’come back and have sum ale with us’.

Some even hollered some obscene things; he will remember their faces for causing such a ruckus. They shouldn’t have that much energy after dominating the Renuo gang. He might have to task them out with more work.

Rhea didn’t hear any of it or chose to ignore it. Her focus is just ahead of them as they follow the beaten path back to the orphanage. They travelled in complete silence, taking in the damage that was done to the city.

Sometimes they find a dead local executed either by a bullet behind their heads or slashed at their throats. Not many innocents died in this skirmish. Each one they do see is a rare occurrence. However, Rhea tensed her shoulders and fists tighter with each one they passed by.

There were no words of reassurance he could find in his library of mental dialogue. It is rare for him to have the urge to before this. Sympathy towards people doesn’t come so easily for him when he isn’t great at noticing the good in people.

Even now, he still held suspicion towards Rhea, suspecting her reaction was a farce even after all they had been through. They only knew each other for a day at best. He couldn’t completely expect that she was free from ill intent. There is yet so much hidden in that shell of hers, Connor is just a fool to be intrigued by the mystery.

What are you hiding? That was a question he kept in his mind. With enough patience, he would find the answer. There was no way to tell that Rhea wouldn’t just withhold that information from him. It is very likely if she were to be interrogated now, she would leave his sight, and he couldn’t possibly allow that. It meant failing.

So, he kept his silence. The streets opened to a section of town that is poorer than even the market center. The cubed shape of these buildings gave away where they were at. In no time, the Chemuk’s effigy on a building was just at the corner of his eye.

Rhea bounded forward, something catching her attention. She knelt over a red-stained portion of the ground with wheel tracks trailing away. The orphanage had been ransacked by appearance alone. The door was hanging by one door hinge, the flower pots tossed on the ground, and they even tried to set it on fire, but either failed or didn’t have the time.

Connor moved to investigate the red stain on the ground: clearly it was blood but no sign of a corpse anywhere. The captain wanted to say it could have been anyone’s blood, but by the way, Rhea’s expression turned into the opposite of distress. Rage perhaps at the intense glitter in her eyes, that kept him from saying anything.

The determination got her to roll onto her heels and marched right inside, smacking the door off the hinges. There really was no pause in her step, ignoring every little concerning detail of the house.

He, of course, foolishly followed her in, seeing every dish cracked on the ground and every piece of furniture upturn. Nothing was spared, it looks just like a monsoon born from the rage of Chemuk passed over and left behind only destruction. Even the children’s toys were ripped to shreds, hay stuffing everywhere.

Rhea ignored it all, rushing over to the stairs in another room to the hatch and climbing up it. He could hear her footfalls and the slam of her pushing the hatch open. Connor didn’t follow this time, finding a drawing on the ground.

It’s a simple drawing of everyone that lived in this house, so simple it was hard to tell the shapes of the people except for the clothes. The Vicar, Grace, the ten children, Ranko and, lastly, Rhea.

Connor picked it up, scanning each section of this very crude drawing. The paper is aged before its use with plenty of bumps on it, but the drawing is fresh. There was no indication as to why he flipped it, lucky to find something written on the back.

It was addressed to...

Connor charged over to the next room, finding the steps to the open hatch. He climbed up it, keeping in mind his head on the lowered ceiling with the drawing rolled up in his hand. The man is going against his rules again.

You’re getting too involved. Connor still believes it but that tone in Rhea’s voice earlier and now as his visage filled with that woman peering down on a spot on the ground on this roof. She didn’t move even when he got close.

“They took it...good.” Rhea mumbled so quietly it may have just been a verification to herself, yet her fist clenched tight beside her hips fighting away the tremble in her frame.

“Took what?” Connor carefully threaded the roof floor, expecting all the possibilities, then too foolish to listen to his own warnings. What is wrong with me?

The woman winced at his pressing, “The valuables that I stole.”

You took the gangs’ valuables and stashed them here? The corner of his mouth twitched to criticize; the gods must have compelled him to keep silent. Instead, he shook the drawing in her line of sight, waking her from whatever sulking she was doing.

“That is...” She lost her manners entirely, ripping the page out of his hand to inspect the drawing, then the words behind it. The tenseness in her body weakens, globs of tears sporadically spill out of her eyes as they stood there for her to read it. The woman’s bruised lip curled into a smile, confusing the pirate captain.

Connor wouldn’t know the first thing about consoling someone, seeing the smile despite the tears really didn’t help the question he had about her mental fortitude.

“The Vicar wrote this.”

Thank the gods...it is only that. Connor nodded to confirm it, watching her tears wash away the dirt on her face.

“Hah, I am happy that they got out.” Rhea turned towards the edge of the roof, something in her aura changed to hint at more things that she battled within herself. The way she pressed the piece of paper against her banded chest gave it away. “I must...keep moving.”

“Where are you going?” Connor asked out of nowhere, like the words didn’t belong to him. At least, he wants to believe so.

Connor knew the answer right away.

“I will do what I have always done. Walked in a general direction.” Rhea’s honesty stings to hear. He lived with the motto of always having a plan before acting, while this woman was an antagonist of such practices.

She has no plan.

Captain Connor swapped away the agitation with something that made more sense to the situation, keeping his tone of business. Especially when he now had to convince her. Because if he failed, she had nowhere else to go.

“There is another option.”

“What...do you mean?” Rhea slowly blinked with those long tear-glistening eyelashes, wiping her wet face with the back of her hand. Suspicion colored her voice, expecting nothing out of this conversation by the slacken posturing of accepting the forced norm.

“Tell me. Have you ever travelled outside of Yventlin?” Connor’s question meant no ill will. The woman still winced at it anyway.

“No. I was promised to be shipped away as a slave. That is why-never mind. I do not understand why you waste Manuk’s light over this, Mister?” Rhea shook her head, from wincing to annoyed right away. Something about ships triggered this female.

It made perfect sense for a chained Krax to fear ships, it made even more sense why she didn’t go up on his.

Tonight, he will change that.

“I can tell that you are hiding something. It isn’t important for you to share it now, though understand that you will take responsibility for my curiosity from here on out.”

Rhea braced herself, eyes wild with the fire of her annoyance. Glittering just like the two moons on the crossing solstice, “I will never agree to that.”

“No. I don’t think you should. I can’t ignore you either. For you have the skills fitting the sea, in addition to a tenacious attitude needed in a crew. So, my proposition...” His blunt statements helped keep this fidgety woman in place, since he truly had no ill ulterior motives.

Though he could tell she was on edge, the color of all her emotions pooled into the silver of her reddened eyes and the furrowing of her brow shaped her forehead. This woman’s life before was nothing but being on the run from her chains, a Moarin man coming up to her for a vague proposition must have stirred her flight instincts.

“Can you just tell me already?” Rhea showed her hatred for suspense, crunching the paper in her hand.

“Join my crew.” He laid it out thick in the air. The woman had nothing to find in to decline based on how her jaw slowly dropped.